


Evermore

by NoirSongbird



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, M/M, Mentioned Kolivan/Antok, Slow Burn, True Love, magical transformations, of a sort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Lance Espinoza is a lot of things, but the most important one is that he's the middle child in the newest family to move to the tiny town of Arus in a backwater corner of the Galra Empire. Which means that, after a few months of being a novelty, he's pretty sure that now he's invisible -- except to the one person whose attention he wants theleast.So when his best friend and almost-brother offers the challenge of stealing a rose from the supposedly haunted, very abandoned castle in the woods, Lance jumps at the opportunity to get some recognition.Unfortunately for him, the castle is neitherabandonednorhaunted-- and its verybeastlyinhabitant is not at all happy with the prospect of trespassers.





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK. LOOK. This is a self-indulgent disaster because I love Beauty and the Beast and I love Lancelot. 
> 
> A note: the Sheith is somewhat minor, but will be implied and referenced throughout the fic. I can't help myself. They're my OTP. Weeps. The Hunk/Narti is similar; they'll be woven throughout but aren't a huge thing!

_ Once upon a time, in the faraway Galra Empire, there was a crown prince. His name was Lotor, and he was the son of the Emperor Zarkon and his beloved wife Honerva.  _

_ When Zarkon was young, he was a good and noble emperor, and he loved his people and his lands, but he loved none more than he loved his wife and son.  _

_ But a terrible plague swept the Empire, claiming many lives, the Empress among them. After her death, Emperor Zarkon’s heart grew cold, and none could warm it. He turned to cruelty and vicious expansionism, and gained a reputation as a tyrant to be feared. He raised his son in his own image, and by the time the boy was grown, he was cruel and arrogant and vain, convinced that as the Crown Prince of the greatest empire the world had known, he deserved everything he desired and more. _

_ Eventually, father and son clashed, and Lotor was cast from the capitol, sent to rule an outlying province and prove that he was worthy of his title. _

_ Out of his father’s constant watchful sight, Lotor cared little for ruling, preferring to indulge in lavish parties and surround himself with beautiful things and beautiful people. _

_ One night, one of those parties was interrupted by a knock on the door. An old woman stood there, pleading for shelter from the terrible cold, and offering a single rose as a token of her gratitude. The Prince scoffed; why would he take a single rose when he had dozens, at the cost of letting something ugly besmirch his beautiful halls?  _

_ The old woman warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. _

_ The Prince dismissed her again, and the old woman’s haggard appearance melted away, revealing a beautiful Altean enchantress. The Prince begged her forgiveness, but it was too late. She had seen he had no love in his heart.  _

_ As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. As days turned to years, all memory of the Prince and his castle faded, for the Enchantress had lifted it from the minds of all those who knew them. But the rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return, by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. If not, he would remain a beast for all eternity. _

_ As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a Beast? _


	2. Chapter 1

Lance sighed, carefully dodging people on his way to the marketplace. He barely had to pay attention; people moved in familiar patterns, set up the same stalls in the same places, and it was all just…..agonizingly  _ normal. _

Living in the quiet village of Arus in a minor province of the Galra Empire wasn’t exactly a setup for a lot of adventure.

Maybe that was why he liked books so much. There weren’t all that many ways to get out of Arus, but a good novel could take him pretty damn far away. The bookstore in town didn’t exactly have the  _ broadest  _ selection in the Empire, but the shopkeeper, a Galra named Kolivan, was all too happy to encourage Lance’s habit. Besides, at least he actually  _ talked  _ to Lance. Knew his name. Most people in town barely knew he  _ existed,  _ except as the middle child of that odd, large family that moved to the outskirts a few years back. Kolivan knew him and  _ liked  _ him, and was always pleased to see him come into the shop

That was his destination, and he slid around market stalls and between people, navigating an eminently familiar route with the sort of familiarity that could only come from doing something over, and over, and over again. 

For some people, the quiet life would be appealing, Lance supposed, but it just...wasn’t for him. The quiet life meant fading into the background, and the background was the last place he wanted to be. He spent most of his life there — the middle child of seven, the one with no particularly extraordinary skills, the one constantly overshadowed by accomplished older siblings and needy younger siblings.

He liked to pretend he was okay with that, but….well, it was hard to pretend, when all he wanted was for  _ someone  _ to recognize him for more than he was.

“Lance!” 

Alright, someone, but not  _ that  _ someone.

Lance turned, and gave the tall Galra striding over to him the fakest smile he could manage.

“Throk,” he greeted dryly. Throk, the village hero, who had come back from his imperial military service having led some brilliant offensive or other and earned an imperial commendation. He’d also, in Lance’s opinion, come back with an incredibly overinflated ego, only fueled by the hero's welcome he received. A few steps behind him as always was Thace, his constant companion, though Lance could never figure out what bound them together other than camaraderie left over from service, because Thace never actually looked happy to be around Throk.

For some reason that was utterly beyond Lance himself, Throk was persistently, aggravatingly interested in him. Anyone else in town would have been thrilled to be on the receiving end of Throk’s affections, he was sure, which was why it was so absurd, to Lance, that Throk kept persisting in coming after  _ the one person who wasn’t interested. _

“It’s always lovely to see you,” Throk said, sweeping into a bow and dropping a bouquet of flowers into Lance’s hands. Lance blinked down at them, and swallowed. “For your table. I imagine it will brighten the house nicely, no?” 

“Uh, yeah, the girls will love them,” Lance replied. His sisters would be excited to hear about this, certainly, especially Maritza, who he was pretty sure was head over heels for Throk in the way that only a teenage girl with questionable taste could be. 

“I hope  _ you _ will, too,” Throk winked. “Any chance I might wrangle myself a dinner invitation?”

“Not tonight,” Lance said, and he turned. “Gotta pick up some things, sorry, no time to chat.” He ducked past Throk and kept walking, utterly refusing to look back.

Not today. Nope. He was  _ not  _ doing that.

 

* * *

“So,” Thace said dryly, watching Lance weave through the crowd with very deliberate speed, “is that going to be it? Because that was a fairly firm rejection.”

“Of course not,” Throk said, looking imperious. “It would be  _ boring  _ to chase after someone who was falling at my feet.”

“So...the attraction is that he dislikes you and isn’t interested,” Thace said, in a tone that indicated he was  _ just  _ on the edge of offering genuine judgement.

“Of course!” Throk said. “I haven’t had this much fun chasing after something since being on the front. Nothing else feels quite like it.”

“And I’m sure that’s the foundation for a stable, healthy long-term relationship,” Thace said, keeping his tone carefully neutral. Throk clapped him on the back.

“Exactly, Lieutenant. I’m so glad you understand.”

 

* * *

Lance jogged the rest of the way to Kolivan’s bookshop, refusing to so much as look backwards. As soon as the door opened and he inhaled the calming evergreen scent that permeated from the wax melts Kolivan’s husband Antok left around the store, Lance relaxed a little. There was no way Throk would come in here; he was allergic to imagination, Lance was pretty sure. 

“Lance,” Kolivan greeted with a nod. He wasn’t exactly the sort to welcome with a grin or a hug, but what he gave was enough. His eyes drifted to the flowers in Lance’s arms, and he raised an eyebrow. “Throk remains persistent in his pursuit, I assume?” He asked. Lance winced.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He huffed, shoving the flowers into the basket he was carrying. “I was hoping to pick up that book Antok mentioned last time? About the farm boy who becomes a pirate to save the princess?” 

“Ah, yes.” Kolivan stepped behind the counter and pulled out a leatherbound book, offering it to Lance. “Antok was certain you would like it, so he insisted I hold it aside for you.” Lance took the book, and pulled out his small pouch of money, but Kolivan held up a hand. “No,” he said. “Consider it a gift. And take this one, too,” he pulled out a second volume and set it on top of the first, “for Keith. It’s a collection of old Galra folktales.” Lance broke into a grin, moving both books into his basket.

“Thank you,” he said. “I love it, and Keith will love his, too.” Kolivan nodded, and Lance turned, stepping out the door and bouncing on his feet in delight. “ _ Hell  _ yes,” he whispered to himself, and he turned to start jogging back to the house. 

 

* * *

Lance shut the garden gate behind him, letting out a breath of relief. Getting home felt like making it to safety, at least for the moment. He started up the path to the front door, and he was about halfway there before a voice made him pause.

“Hello again, Lance,” Throk said, and when Lance turned, he was leaning casually on the garden gate. There was a broad grin on his face, and Lance immediately felt like he’d been dunked in something incredibly slimy.

“Throk,” he said, warily. 

“Have you thought any more about my proposition?” Throk asked, casually stepping over the fence. Lance made a mental note to see about making it taller, not that it was really  _ intended  _ to keep people out. 

“What, about dinner tonight?” Lance asked. “My answer’s still no.”

“Come on,” Throk said, “there’s no need to be that way.”

“I wouldn’t have to be  _ that way _ if you’d take no for an answer,” Lance said flatly. “I’m just….not interested in courting.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right person,” Throk said, moving closer to him.

“I’ve, uh, met ‘em all, it’s not a big village.” Lance said, taking a step back.

“Maybe you ought to take another look, one of us might surprise you,” Throk’s voice had become something like a purr, and Lance kept on backing up, eyes narrowed. 

“Not that much,” he said.

“Don’t you think you’re tossing the possibility a  _ little  _ too quickly?” Throk asked. “I mean, not to brag, but I  _ am  _ the most eligible bachelor in town, and you  _ are  _ just the middle child of the newest family to move here. I’m the best you’re likely to get, Lance., and you know what happens to unmarried young folk in this town when their parents die. They beg for scraps, like poor Allura.” Throk gestured over her shoulder, encompassing the figure of the woman he’d named, hunched and shivering and stopping people to beg for a few pieces of coin or something to eat. No one really knew Allura’s story, but it wasn’t exactly hard to tell that it was a tragedy. 

Throk, apparently, wasn’t done. He gave Lance an almost playful grin.

“That’s not what you want for you and your sisters, is it?” He asked, sounding rather smug. Lance saw red. How  _ fucking dare  _ this overblown prick insist that marrying him was the only way to keep his sisters off the street? 

“Little tip,” he said, teeth gritted, and he reached backwards for the door, pulling it open, “‘I’m the best you’re gonna get’ isn’t the way to  _ anybody’s  _ heart, and I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in the Empire.”

He ducked inside and slammed the door in Throk’s face.

“Want me to go out there and chase him off?”

Lance flashed a grin over in the direction of the person waiting on the other side. Keith was practically his brother and certainly his best friend; he’d been adopted by the Espinosas not long after they moved to town, when he stumbled out of the woods confused and with huge holes in his memory. He knew he was half-Galra, and that Arus was where he’d once lived, but little else, and no one in town seemed to remember  _ him  _ very well. Lance’s Mamá had taken one look at him and all but actually adopted him, and he and Lance had started out bitterly resenting each other, but it hadn’t lasted. There was no one Lance would rather gossip about Throk with, at the least.

“Nah,” Lance said, “I think the sting of rejection’ll do it, for the moment.” Keith shrugged his shoulders and held out a hand for Lance’s basket, which he handed over, tossing the flowers onto the counter. “Look in the basket, Kolivan gave me something for you.”

“What…?” Keith opened it and pulled out the book, and his eyes widened and he made a tiny little gasping noise. “Is this…”

“He said it was a collection of old Galra folktales,” Lance said. “I guess to help you, like...connect with your heritage?”

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly, “Kolivan’s been doing a lot of that for me.” He set the book down, running his fingers reverently over the cover, staring at it like it was the center of the universe.

“So,” Lance said, before Keith could get too enraptured, “where’s Mamá? And the girls, it’s way too quiet for them to be here.”

“They’re on their way to the dockside markets a town over,” Keith replied, not really looking up. “That time of year, you know.” Lance tried not to be hurt, that she hadn’t even waited until he got home to let him know she was leaving. It wasn't like it was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Gotcha,” he said. Keith seemed to notice his distress, and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“She asked me to stay here while she’s gone, so you’re not alone,” he said, and that was almost comforting. At least she hadn’t completely forgotten him. “So,” Keith said, in an obvious attempt to redirect, “what  _ was  _ that, with Throk? I caught a little bit, but not all of it.”

“He wants me to marry him!” Lance said. “Just, what the hell,  _ me _ , marry  _ him?  _ He’s a jackass!”

“He’s also kind of a local hero, after the war, and he’s not  _ terrible  _ facewise,” Keith said. “For, you know, a complete jackass.” 

“Ew,” Lance said, following Keith as he deposited the basket in the kitchen and then moved out to the backyard. “If you like him so much, maybe you should marry him.”

“Not my type,” Keith said, and his expression got faintly wistful for a moment. 

“I guess not,” Lance said dryly. “Just...I dunno. It almost feels like he was right. Nobody else really  _ sees  _ me, he might be the best I’m gonna get.”

“You could always  _ make  _ people see you,” Keith said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“...How so?” Lance asked, giving Keith a long, confused look.

“Well, I mean,” Keith said, “do something dramatic, or brave, or stupid? Or all three.”

“Thanks, that sounds brilliant,” Lance said sarcastically. “Got any ideas for what to do?”

“There’s the old castle in the woods,” Keith said idly. “It’s supposed to be haunted, right? And dangerous to get to, anyway. So...I dunno, go there and take something to prove you came.” 

“Yeah, sure, that’ll work,” Lance said sarcastically.

“I mean, if you’re too scared,” Keith said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not exactly a quick jaunt through town, I can understand why you’d find it intimidating.”

“Hey!” Lance said, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m not  _ scared.  _ It’s just some old castle, right?”

“Probably an abandoned provincial capitol, yeah,” Keith said. There was half a grin on his face. “But if you don’t think you can handle it, I’d never push.”

“Shut up, mullet,” Lance said. “I can handle it, and I’m  _ not  _ scared.”

“Then prove it,” Keith said.

“I will!” Lance declared. “I’m gonna go to the castle, and I’m gonna take a flower out of the garden, and I’ll bring it back here, and everyone is gonna see how cool I am.”

It was an absolutely brilliant plan, as far as Lance was concerned. What could possibly go wrong?

 

* * *

The answer, apparently, was  _ everything. _

Lance thought he was prepared. He threw together food for the hike, made sure he was dressed for walking, and by the time he entered the woods he was feeling pretty good about the whole plan. Keith was right; it  _ would _ be a good way to get people to notice him. He’d be able to tell the story of braving the haunted castle and returning alive, and he’d have  _ proof.  _ No one would be able to say he was  _ just the middle child _ then.

Hell, maybe if he was really lucky, he’d catch the eye of one of the more handsome eligible bachelors in town, someone who would treat him better than Throk ever could.

He was riding high on confidence right up until he noticed that the weather was getting very cold, very fast.  _ Especially _ for the middle of summer.

The closer he got to the castle—-and he could see its looming shape in the distance, through the trees—the colder it got. Eventually, it began to snow, and Lance huddled in on himself and trudged forward faster. He wasn’t prepared for that kind of weather, and there was no way he  _ could have  _ prepared for it. None of the rumors about the castle suggested  _ anything  _ about  _ snow in summer. _

He finally stumbled past the garden wall, and ran for the front door of the castle, desperate to get out of the bitter cold. The door came open at his touch, and he stepped inside, shivering hard. 

“Is that a  _ visitor _ ?” A voice said, a hissed whisper that somehow still managed to carry.

“Oh, my gosh, it is, and he’s  _ cute!”  _ Another voice, also a carrying whisper. Lance whirled around, but there was no sign of anyone else. “You think he might be the one?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the first voice said disdainfully, and Lance squinted in the direction he thought they were coming from, but he couldn’t see anyone.

“Hello?” He called, and his voice echoed in the vast, empty foyer. “Who’s there?”

He swore he heard a giggle, and a loud  _ shhhh! _ , and then everything was silent.

“Alright,” he said, mostly to himself, “that’s….weird.” Still, the castle was much warmer than outside, and if he ignored the suddenly very real possibility that it was  _ super  _ haunted, it wasn’t all that bad a place to be. Huge, elegant, exactly the sort of place that Lance could only live in in his dreams.

His feet carried him out of the foyer and into what had to be a dining area, and he swore he heard the quiet scuttling of feet, like people were quickly moving to get out of sight, and there on the table, in front of a roaring fireplace that had no reason to be going in an abandoned castle, was  _ fresh food.  _

Apparently, this place wasn’t as empty as everyone thought it was.

“Is this for me?” Lance asked. There was no answer, but the warm fire and hot food and comfort called to him after trudging through the cold and the snow. He walked over to the table and dropped down into the seat. There was what looked like some kind of beef roast, and a roll, and grapes, and a goblet of water and a filled teacup, and Lance scooped up the roll and bit into it. 

There was a scraping sound, and he looked up, and then narrowed his eyes. The teacup was definitely closer to him than it had been. He set the roll down and leaned in, and that was when he noticed that the patterning on the teacup almost looked like a  _ face. _

“Huh,” the teacup said, and the shape that was almost reminiscent of a mouth moved, and Lance froze in shock. “I think Ezor might’ve been exaggerating, you’re not  _ that  _ cute.”

“Uh,” Lance said intelligently, and then he stood up very quickly. “Well! Thanks much for the hospitality but you know what, I’ve gotta  _ go. _ ” 

He booked it for the door as quickly as he could, heart pounding. Holy  _ shit,  _ this place really  _ was  _ haunted, that was the only explanation frot here being a  _ talking teacup,  _ and for the other voices he’d heard, and he had to get the hell out of there before...he wasn’t sure, but there were always penalties for staying too long in haunted houses and they were usually gruesome as all hell. He wanted exactly zero part of  _ any of that shit. _

He was most of the way out when he bumped into one of the massive rosebushes in the garden, and that made him stop.

“Oh, shit, that’s right,” he murmured to himself, and he reached out to pluck one of the blooms—strangely full and bright, even in the strange magical winter that surrounded the castle.

“Well, well. What have we here.” A voice came from behind Lance, and he spun around, rose still gripped in his fingers. A tiny gasp passed his lips as he stared up, and  _ up,  _ at the creature that had spoken.

A  _ creature  _ indeed, massive and hulking, covered in deep purple fur. It might have been Galra, but no Galra was that large, and Lance had never seen one with fangs that long or a face that  _ animal.  _ It looked more like an oversized hulking werewolf than a proper Galra, and the tattered clothes that might once have been fine but were now rags added to the transformed monster image. Its yellow eyes drifted to the rose in Lance’s hand, and it seemed to quirk up an eyebrow, and Lance was very, very certain that this was the worst idea he’d ever had and it was going to get him killed.

“Uh,” Lance said, and he wanted to kick himself for his brilliant articulation.

“A thief,” it— _ he _ , the voice was distinctly masculine, and oddly refined for such a monstrous, huling thing—said, and he plucked the rose out of Lance’s fingers. “Stealing one of the roses out of  _ my garden.”  _ He eyed the flower, almost idly. “You know, I received eternal damnation for one of these. In comparison to  _ that,  _ I think demanding you stay in the castle as my prisoner is letting you off  _ lightly.”  _

“Your  _ what?”  _ Lance demanded, and he squared his shoulders, straightening as tall as he could. He was prepared to fight, or he  _ thought  _ he was, but one massive hand closed around his arm and the creature tugged, and no matter how much he struggled, he was completely outclassed. “Let me go! What the hell! It’s just a  _ flower! _ ”

“You’ve trespassed on my lands, little thief,” the creature said, “and you’ve stolen from me. I believe there are punishments for such transgressions, no?” 

“I  _ picked a flower, _ that’s hardly  _ stealing,”  _ Lance said, and he struggled against the grip on his arm, but the creature was far stronger, and he found himself pulled through the castle doors.

They shut right in front of his eyes, and Lance felt a sinking sense of panic. 

He was trapped.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr at [noirsongbird!](http://noirsongbird.tumblr.com)


End file.
